If the Shoe Fits
by NoCleverSig
Summary: Will looked, really looked, at Magnus. Her shoes, her dress, her hair. If he'd been any other man, Helen would have thought he was leering. But she knew him better than that. Her secret was about to be exposed.


**Author's Note: Shopping with my daughter this weekend made me think of Helen's shoes. She just has the coolest shoes. Ah well, this story came out of that thought. Spoilers through Season 2 "Haunted." Enjoy.:) Peace. NCS**

**If the Shoe Fits**

"How long has she been in there?" Will asked, agitated, gesturing toward Magnus's closed door.

Bigfoot stood in front of her office, acting more like a huge, harry bouncer than a Northern Pacific version of his Himalayan cousin. He blocked Will's entrance with a vengeance.

"C'mon, Big Guy," Will said, exasperated, arms spread wide. "I've been trying to see her for two hours now, and you won't let me in. There's _something_ going on with Magnus. I know it. And if I can help her, I'd like to try."

"Nothing going on. Just business. _Personal_ business," he finally grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis.

Druitt, Will thought. Only he could send Magnus into such a tailspin. Ever since Druitt had murdered the empath two weeks ago and the cause of his insanity, the energy creature, had been revealed, Magnus had been acting subdued to say the least. She'd had him back. For a few hours, the John Druitt she had known and loved had returned. And he had proclaimed that love "for all eternity" in front of Magnus, God, and everyone else. Yet to save the Sanctuary, to save everything really, he had sacrificed himself, and Magnus had let him. That had to hurt like Hell.

"Big Guy," Will tried once more, smiling, putting his hand on Bigfoot's shoulder. It was a reach—literally. "You know, Magnus and I are more than colleagues, we've become good friends. Given everything that's happened lately, I think she could use a friend right now. Don't you?"

Big Guy scratched his head and snorted. Will sent him another pleading look. Bigfoot turned around, knocked on the door, and went in. After a few moments he came back out. "Go on. But don't upset her," he growled and smacked Will on the back of his head as Zimmerman passed through the doorway.

Magnus was seated at her desk, laptop in front of her, impeccably groomed at 9 a.m. per usual. Her dark, brunette hair was pulled back with a silver clasp. Two tasteful, teardrop earrings hung from her ears. Her makeup up was light but flattering. And her dress, a royal blue with silver brocade, hugged her figure neatly and brought out the cerulean highlights in her eyes.

Will was in black jeans, sneakers, and an untucked shirt. No wonder the woman was intimidating. She'd taken the motto, 'Dress for Success,' and put it on steroids.

"You wanted to see me Will?" she asked, a small, unreadable smile on her face.

"Yeah, Magnus. Do you have a minute?"

"Certainly," she said. "I just need to finish up one thing here."

Will nodded, and sat down. Magnus went back to working on her laptop.

"Bloody hell," she muttered.

Will looked up. "Problem?"

"No, just need to find something." She stood up, flashed that enigmatic smile again, and started rummaging through her desk looking for…something.

"Can I help?"

"Uh…" she started, still looking from drawer to drawer, under papers, in books. "It's just….I seem to have misplaced my Visa."

"You're credit card?"

"Yes, and I need it to complete this order. I have the account number memorized, of course." Of course, Will thought fleetingly. "But I've forgotten the blasted CVC number."

"The little number on the back of the card?"

"Yes, that one. Damn it," she was picking up stacks of scientific journals now, looking under Nepalese paper weights, and growing more exasperated, it seemed, by the second.

Will walked over to her desk to help, took a glance at Magnus's computer screen, and stared, slack jawed at the image.

"Found it!" She said, holding the card in her hand triumphantly. "Will?"

He turned around to look at Magnus and pointed at the screen.

"Zappos? You've been in here all morning ordering shoes on the Internet?" he asked incredulously.

"They're having a sale," she explained flatly. "Now if you don't mind," she gestured for him to move out of the way. Will went round the desk, sat back down, mind still reeling. Helen finished her order, closed her lap top, and looked up to see Will staring at her. She glanced down at her T-strap heels and back up at her young protégé. "Well you don't think these Michael Kors just magically appear on my feet, do you?" she asked sarcastically.

Will didn't know how to respond. He'd never thought about it before. Magnus was always dressed to the tee. A perfect mix of professionalism and femininity. Yet when did the lady ever have time to shop? In all of their travels together, all of their missions, they'd never once hit the outlet mall, that was for sure. It made sense she did her shopping online. She had to get her clothes from somewhere, but still….

"Two hours?" He said out loud.

Helen looked down and pretended to rearrange a stack of crypto-zoology journals. "It soothes me," she replied.

Will looked, really looked, at Magnus. Her shoes, her dress, her hair. If he'd been any other man, Helen would have thought he was leering. But she knew him better than that. Her secret was about to be exposed.

"You're a shopaholic," Will said, hitting the palm of his hand to his forehead and smiling. "Oh my god, that explains so much!"

"Such as?" she asked defensively.

"The shoes," he pointed to the bottom of her desk where her feet would be on the other side. "The clothes…everything."

"Everyone has their own ways of dealing with stress, Will, and sometimes mine is…."

"Shopping," he finished, smiling, amazed to discover a rare chink in Magnus's armor.

"On occasion, yes." Was she blushing? He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Helen Magnus blushing.

"You know," Will said, "There've been several studies done on the psychological reasons why people shop. A couple of years ago researchers at Carnegie Mellon, Harvard, and Stanford found that when people feel sad and introspective, they spend more money to acquire the same goods they would in a neutral emotional state. Dwelling on a sad event caused the test subjects to devalue their sense of self and their current possessions; hence, they shopped for new ones."

"Really?" Helen replied, her face schooled in a neutral emotional state. "How absolutely shocking," she said, mockingly.

Will ignored it.

"I'm just suggesting that given what you've gone through this year, and the last two weeks, well…." He gestured to her laptop. "Shopping. It makes sense."

"Or perhaps I just like to look nice. Have you considered that Dr. Zimmerman?"

Dr. Zimmerman. Ooh, he'd hit close to the mark.

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar you mean?"

"Sigmund actually said, 'Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe,' when one of his students was getting particularly cheeky with him," Magnus noted pointedly.

Will smiled. He'd gotten the message.

"Yeah, I think you like to look nice, Magnus. You're a beautiful woman. Beautiful women like to look nice. And you take pride in your work and your appearance. You are, after all, the head of the Sanctuary Network," he said, raising his hand. "You're a CEO, an executive. You have to look the part. I get it."

She nodded, accepting Will's seeming apology.

"But…" he continued, "After everything that's happened this year…." He didn't mention Ashley…Druitt…the Cabal…Clara. He didn't need to. They both knew each other's battle scars by heart. "You've got to be hurting. I know I am. And if I can help in any way to ease the pain, I'm here. I just wanted you to know that."

Magnus tilted her head and looked at him, her right hand lightly tapping a pen on her desk.

"What are you doing after dinner tonight?"

Will shook his head. "Nothing."

"Care to join me for a glass of wine and some…conversation?" she asked quietly.

Will smiled. "I'd like that."

"Me too," Magnus said, smiling back. "Thank you, Will."

"You're welcome." He stood up to leave.

"But just so you know," she told him as he was walking toward the door. "I'm keeping the Jimmy Choos I just ordered."

Will turned around. "You should. I bet they're hot."

Helen grinned. "You know what, Will? They are." And she opened her laptop and began her day.


End file.
